


three words, and i'm yours

by Dreamicide



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamicide/pseuds/Dreamicide
Summary: To help things along with finding ones soulmate, the first words spoken to one another are written on their wrists.So when Lance sees 'You're under arrest' on his skin, he decides to try and find his soulmate as fast as he can.He gets arrested.A lot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a quick and silly thing I wanted to get out of my system. You can blame Dasseinhundin for this.
> 
> Russian translation by Sarritena:
> 
> https://ficbook.net/readfic/6696014

Lance has always been an impatient child. So when the words ‘You're under arrest’ first showed up on his wrist on his fourteenth birthday, he did everything in his power to facilitate his first meeting with his soulmate as fast as he could - namely, he became a delinquent.

Never for anything serious, of course. He just grew more flippant about where he smoked weed, wandered off when intoxicated, maybe conducted a little more disorderly from time to time. But if it got him any closer to meeting The One, it was worth it.

Because of this, his teenage years were filled with the click of handcuffs straining his arms behind his back and rough hands slamming his money maker against the hood of a car, and like clockwork he'd hear those fated words hovering above his head, to which Lance would shift around until he could manage to murmur out with half his face mashed against the hard surface:

“At least buy me a drink first.”

Great first words, he thought. Easy to recognize, and with the help of that mysterious magnetic pull every soulmate seemed to feel within the other's vicinity, Lance eagerly awaited for the day a police officer paused reciting his rights and asked for his name before riding off with him into the sunset.

But when this went on for several years and he never got any closer to meeting them, it had a visible effect on his mood. He began to mope.

And his friends, bless them, decided to try cheering him up by taking him out for the night.

Which was how Lance found himself at a strip club, draping his head across the table he shared with Hunk and Pidge. He barely paid attention to his surroundings, save for whenever someone placed a beer by his side.

“Sorry guys. ‘M just not feelin’ it tonight,” he mumbled, cheek squished against the table and puckering his lips out. The position gave him a funny sense of deja vu.

“Will you quit being such a drama queen already,” Pidge groused from above the rim of her glass.

“Mmmmm nooooo.”

He felt a large hand pat him on the back, courtesy of Hunk. “C’mon, dude. Are you sure you didn't already meet them and it just hadn't clicked yet?”

“I would have known,” Lance moaned. At least, he hoped he would have. He'd read all sorts of books and articles over the years that described the feeling of two soulmates meeting. He liked to think he knew what to look out for.

“I still don't see why you'd even want one of them anyway,” Pidge said, frowning. “They treat you awfully rough just for your dumb minor offenses.”

“That won't matter when it comes to my soulmate!” Lance argued. “It's destiny, man. They'll be worth all the roughing up, I just know it. Besides,” he shrugged, “I may or may have not garnered a reputation in the precinct anyway.”

“Alright, well,” Hunk said, pausing to catch the attention of a passing waitstaff and speaking quietly to their ear, before turning back to the table. “Time to turn that frown upside down, ‘cause I just bought you a lap dance.”

Lance sat up straight immediately. “Wait what--”

A hand grasped the back of his chair and abruptly spun him around. Lance's head swam from the whiplash, then his eyes widened at the sight that greeted him.

A scantily dressed male dancer suddenly invaded his personal space, dark hair falling over half-lidded eyes and pink tongue running over his lips as the man gave Lance a once over. Something hooked itself behind Lance’s chest and tugged harshly, making his heart leap and catch his breath.

The stripper wore a vaguely familiar outfit, only much more obscenely tight and revealing than what Lance was used to. As the man threw a leg over his seat and straddled him, it finally dawned on Lance what he was supposed to be: a slutty cop.

The revelation gave him only about two seconds of preparation before the man finally spoke, leaning in with a seductive glint in his eye.

“You're under arrest,” he purred.

Lance’s jaw dropped.

Oh.

Ohhhhh.

That weird hook in chest feeling, yup, that would be the magnetic pull he'd read about so much. Lance gaped dumbly, brain short-circuiting as he processed the situation.

Then he blurted out: “I have a criminal record because of this?!” before he had the chance to collect himself and remember his well practiced pick-up line.

Not that it appeared to matter, because at those words the man froze as well, eyes widening in recognition. Tight leather cuffs concealed his wrists, but Lance could probably make a good guess as to what was written on them.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time Lance has had to reevaluate every action he made in his life because of the words on his own wrist. 

For several seconds they stared at each other dumbly, Lance with his lap full of stripper and his friends absolutely losing their shit across the table.

“Oh my god.” Pidge wiped a tear from her eye. “I can't believe it, this is perfect. Hunk, did you plan this?!”

Hunk, struggling to breathe around his wheezing, shook his head.

Lance did his best to ignore them. Glancing back up at the man, he attempted a shrug and flirtatious smile, though it turned out more sheepish. “So, uh. Hey. Name’s Lance.”

The man returned his smile with a quip to his lips and oh, Lance could get used to that expression.

“Keith.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing about soulmarks, is that they don't indicate tone or inflection. 
> 
> The thing about soulmarks, is that they don't include punctuation. 
> 
> • Companion piece to chapter one from Keith's POV, and a little of what happens after.

“‘ _I have a criminal record because of this_ ,’” Shiro read aloud, blinking slowly as Keith drew his wrist back to his chest and tugged his sleeve down. “That's… uh.”

“Yup,” said Keith.

“Huh.”

“I know.”

“Really not sure what to make of that.”

Keith only snorted, smirking wryly at the corner of his mouth. “I'm going to take a wild guess and assume they have a criminal record.”

“Oh, Keith…”

*

Keith’s had the words of his soulmark on his wrist since he was fourteen, and that still remained the only thing he could figure out about it. That his soulmate would be a criminal of some kind. But for what, and why that would be literally the first words they'd speak to him, remained a mystery.

He’d tried thinking of scenarios. Maybe sometime in the future he’d run into some trouble with the authorities - something that honestly wasn't too far a stretch for him - and he’d get caught up running away with a stranger who grabbed his hand and led him to a hiding place without a word. Once the sirens pass, the stranger would look back to him and say those words, as if they provided all the explanation needed.

But something about that wording didn't sound right. It only left Keith even more confused.

_I have a criminal record because of this._

The words were always rolling around in his head incessantly. He was left behind as he watched his friends find their soulmates through much more normal soulmarks, congratulated Shiro when he met his “ _I’m sorry, you just have such lovely eyes._ ”

*

“Got that job at The Wormhole,” Keith announced one day.

“What've they got you doing?”

“Stripping, mostly.”

Shiro had the gall to act mortified. “Goodness. What would your soulmate think? You haven't even met yet. What if they don't approve?”

Keith threw a decorative pillow at him from across the couch.

“Ha. I get it. It's funny because they're the one with a criminal record. You're hilarious.”

Shiro looked genuinely pleased. “Usually you can never tell when I'm joking. I'm proud of you.”

Keith threw another pillow.

*

Pulling back from the chair where his latest patron sat, Keith slipped the bill in the back pocket of the obscenely tight leather pants of his slutty cop outfit, offering his signature crooked smirk as thanks. “There are private rooms in the back, if anyone wants more than just a teaser,” he reminded the table, the group of friends all quietly blushing at each other as he took his leave.

There was a small lull in business that night. Keith spent the majority of his shift going around giving short one-to-two minute lap dances between shows, mostly to tables of squealing groups who bought them for their shy friend’s birthday. And while he usually strolled throughout the floor, that night found him inexplicably lingering around the south side of the building. He didn't think much of it, until he noticed that he kept passing by the same table of three - several times already.

It appeared to be two friends comforting someone. The guy had his head plopped down on the table every single time Keith passed them, though Keith couldn't tell what was wrong. He assumed relationship trouble. It wasn't uncommon to see friends bringing someone here after getting dumped, after all.

Thing was, Keith couldn't figure out the niggling feeling in his chest that indicated he _cared_ , somehow. Every time he spotted that table out of the corner of his sight, his eyes wandered over to the lanky guy, as if to check and see whether he felt any better. He never perked up. Keith didn't like that, for some reason.

Despite his watching, Keith didn't approach the table himself. Not until one of his coworkers serving as waitstaff nudged his elbow, nodded to the group, and said, “Lapdance for the twink at table twelve.”

That, he could do.

Quickly making his way over, Keith grabbed the back of the guy’s chair and spun him around. Getting a closer look, he noticed blue eyes widening up at him. Keith found him genuinely attractive, and the way Keith easily threw a leg over his seat and ran his tongue over his bottom lip wasn't one made for show.

The weird feeling in his chest tightened. Keith ignored it.

Leaning closer, Keith dropped his voice in his best purr and recited, “You're under arrest.”

The guy didn't say anything, only stared. Keith figured him a first-timer, but then he seemed to gather his bearings back as he shouted, “I have a criminal record because of this?!”

Keith froze.

What.

The two friends by his side gasped loudly and started whapping at each other with flailing hands. The guy gaped up at him with a red face, and Keith simply blinked.

Wait.

What just happened?

Did he just meet his soulmate?

Going over the exchange in his head, everything fell into place. Keith spoke to him first, so that would mean the words on his wrist would be --

Oh.

Oh bless his heart.

“So uh,” his soulmate started, smiling awkwardly up at Keith. “Hey. Name’s Lance.”

Lance.

Keith’s lips pulled in a quip, immensely amused with the whole situation. “Keith.”

His friends were still animated in their excitement, jeering and teasing Lance, but he ignored them in favor of staring at Keith. Like he couldn't believe his eyes.

“So…”

“So,” Keith repeated.

Lance breathed a small laugh, then shrugged, looking unsure. “What now?”

What now, indeed.

It wasn't every day someone met their soulmate. But that didn't stop Keith from answering any difficult question with a ride of his impulses.

“Now?” The music playing in the club changed, a deep vibrating bass that sent Keith’s hips naturally swaying. “Now, I’m going to give you the lap dance you bought.”

As Keith lowered himself closer to Lance’s lap, circling his middle in a figure eight, Lance sputtered, “That wasn't me, that was Hunk --”

“YOU’RE WELCOME,” the big guy called.

Keith smirked, and let himself loosen up, inexplicably already comfortable around his person. He dropped low, gently nudged Lance’s knees to spread them, slid back up his body like a snake, pulling out his best moves.

Lance’s eyes widened when Keith leaned in close on a body roll.

“Oh sweet cheese and crackers,” he squeaked. His friends wolf-whistled in the background.

Looking at Lance, he was nothing like Keith imagined at all. He envisioned maybe someone more like himself, who had trouble with authority, or maybe someone infamous for any one crime in particular.

But that wasn't what Lance had been doing. If his soulmark really were Keith’s first words to him, then Keith’s soulmark, after years of staring at his wrist, finally made sense.

Lance was trying to find him.

Keith couldn't help but grin as he turned around in Lance’s lap, undulating as he glanced over his shoulder.

His soulmate was an idiot.

*

When the song ended, Keith pulled back, unsure of where to go from there. He bit his lip before speaking up.

“My shift ends in an hour,” he offered lamely.

Lance’s eyes brightened. “I'll wait!”

*

Lance was alone outside when Keith finished his shift. Keith, now dressed in his casual clothes, approached him.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Keith said, tucking his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Lance stepped closer. “Could I, uh…” He gestured at Keith’s arm. “See? Just to… I don't know. Make sure?” He pulled back his own sleeve and displayed his wrist for Keith as example.

Keith breathed a laugh through his nose when he read ‘ _You're under arrest_ ’ on Lance's skin. He could definitely see where the confusion lay. Quietly, he untucked his arms and did the same, watching as Lance drew closer still and shyly reached for his wrist.

“Oh my god,” Lance moaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh my god, that really happened. I'm so _lame_.” He looked at Keith with pleading eyes. “That wasn't what was supposed to happen! I was gonna give you this line about taking you out for a drink first, or - You were supposed to be a cop, first of all --”

Funny thing about Fate. It never actually went as planned.

Lance rambled on for a few moments, Keith listening patiently. But after a while he piped in, “I wouldn't be adversed to that drink, y’know.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot, then nodded at the building behind them. “Just not here. I get enough of this place in my work week.”

Lance blinked, then grinned, straightening his posture. “Yeah - yeah, of course! I know this great place a few blocks away, you'll totally love it --”

As Lance began leading him, Keith fell into step beside him, inwardly rolling his eyes. How was Lance so sure Keith would like it if he didn't know his preferences? But, he supposed, that was the point of getting to know one another. There was always time to learn. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
